


General Besithia and the Temple of Doom

by medical_mechanica, Verdin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Dungeon Crawling, Homoeroticism, Limb Dislocation, M/M, No Spoilers, Preemptive Prompto/Ardyn, pre game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-06-17 11:55:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15460833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medical_mechanica/pseuds/medical_mechanica, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verdin/pseuds/Verdin
Summary: General Verstael Besithia had received a letter from an inquiring 'Mister Izunia', regarding an unexpected discovery in a mysterious ancient temple in what was once Solheim. None of the events that would follow would proceed as intended.Everything has got to start somewhere.





	1. Chapter 1

The golden sunlight of the early morning hours spilled over shining metal, and the mechanical door of the descending dropship opened with a heavy whir, allowing it in.

General Verstael Besithia sneered. Had his pilot not been so careless, he wouldn't be a sitting duck for a potential assassination attempt. At least their location was so far into the old Empire that it wasn't a real concern.

Making a note of who to deal with later, he pulled on a pair of thin tinted glasses just as the door forced the light into eternally bloodshot blue eyes. Of course, he could have waited with his pilot until they had landed, but after all, the message he had received was addressed directly to the "Most Esteemed General", so a certain amount of presence was... expected.  Not much could distract the him from his duties, that was well known, save for findings like these.

 Just as the dropship touched ground, Besithia made his way to the edge of the door and stepped off, timing it perfectly, noting how much lighter his feet he seemed without his usual armor on. The occasion called for more discretion, due to its nature and purpose, so he sported a howie coat under his usual insignia. Dust already blew in from the outside, catching in blond hair riddled with flyaways but tucked back in an attempt to appear professional.

 A fringe archeological site stretched out before him. The place was a mess, at least to his standards. More a set design for a movie or, even worse, a _stage play_. They had set up camp down in the bottom of the gorge and started tearing away the dark green vines that covered the craggy surface, not bothering to remove them from where they had fallen. Now they lay there, shriveling into dark veins between scaffolding and boxes. What had they been looking-- Yes. Of course. He could see the way the rock had been _carved_ through the green stumps.

 In his professional opinion this was _desolate_. It had to have been the most pitiful he had witnessed to date. Although very expansive, next to no one seemed to be present, much less aware of his arrival. There were so many locations just like this that the would-be-researcher had mostly given up on the last traces of ancient Magitek to exist in Gralea. And this one was a textbook example of human incompetence. He withheld another sneer.

 

He was _not impressed_.

 

From where he stood, the harsh shadow the sun created obscured any real detail Besithia could’ve gleanes from the motives they freed from the overgrowth. They were starting quite abruptly at a column hewn into the wall and illustrated a stretch that was at least as long as the scaffolds reached, and at least as high

He made his way down toward the gorge and it’s stone structure, stretching on before him like the back of a amphitheater.

Only a few workers were here, selected individuals. They had not been hired because they were trustworthy, but because they were disposable, and the arriving ship had been largely ignored by all of them but one, a tall man with wide shoulders and hair the color of fresh liver under a straw hat. He lifted an arm and waved towards the newcomer.

Smoothing over his growing irritation, Verstael straightened and motioned to the pair of soldiers still aboard the dropship to hold, before crossing over to greet the man.

 

"I assume you must be the... Mister Izunia who reached out about this find of 'great importance to the Empire'?" Verstael's tone was harsh, as he couldn't help but notice with every step closer how much taller this man was in contrast to his own height. He stopped a few paces away, eyeing the straw hat wearily. _Was this a joke?_

"That is little old me indeed. You honor me with your presence, _mon général_." He tipped his hat in a way that registered to the military man as _honorific_ , but both terribly _civilian_ and _old-fashioned_. Golden eyes and a golden voice from a tan face, a dusty white shirt with the sleeves rolled up under a vest. "Ardyn Izunia, at your service."

The man, as this whole undertaking, would have fitted better into a black and white photograph than into this reality. _Ridiculous._

 

Trying to figure out the man before him proved a challenge. For all his facial structure and build seemed to suggest, his movements were far too graceful to be associated with manual labour, as noted in his flourish. The general tucked this useless knowledge away, before shifting his gaze away from the golden one meeting his own. Sizing up the surroundings, he noted a nearby encampment.

"Do realize, Mister Izunia, that I have visited many an archeological site on behalf of the Emperor." He removed his glasses pointedly, looking back at the strange man, "and it has fallen to me to find and reclaim whatever we can of ancient Solheim for the glory of our great Empire." He spoke a practiced speech, letting out the slightest breath of exasperation as he did so. "I do hope that you have brought me here to discuss how this... structure of yours, and yourself, can be of use.” He looked up at the man with relative doubt.

"Ah, so you wish to go straight _in media res_. Ever the military man, even though I've been told that the wise general studies the battleground before he leads his men. But who am I to doubt you, the one I have been waiting for?" A great big smile with very white teeth.

This took the General aback, although he wouldn't show it outside of the extra beat it took for him to respond. "Well, then, good sir, show me this 'battleground' of yours." He shrugged, stepping past Mr. Izunia toward the impressive pillar.

"Ah, I'm very much at home here, _mon général_. Not a battleground for me, but it might be for _you_ , from what I gathered from your essay in _Voluminum_. I'd love to discuss your views on Solheimian mortality later, if you have the time."

 

They walked slowly, leaving Besithia enough time to take in the carvings. Long, abstract figures, barely human anymore, holding hands, carrying a _thing_ that did not make sense, a child or an animal or something entirely else. Bits and pieces were missing, destroyed by time or violence, most often the faces and the cartouches that had contained names. Early period, definitely, and maybe, just maybe, this Mister Izunia had indeed found something interesting.

There were few things that could phase General Verstael Besthesida. He had lost dear friends in combat, lived the brutalities of war, and by no means led a sheltered life in his thirty years. However, what few knew, and even fewer validated, was of his passion for the secrets of the Old Empire. Of course, he had discussed it at length with the Emperor enough to be granted his current abilities, but it felt more of a ploy to keep him compliant and on the field.

 Upon the mention of one of pieces he had published some years prior, he was thankful the warmth that rose to his cheeks was hidden as he studied the surroundings.  It wouldn't do him well to fawn at the mention of his own work, after all. He did nothing but clear his throat, and pressed on to one of the more elaborate carvings they approached.

No, there wasn't a lot that could phase the man, but as he stepped up to the stone, he found himself stalling. There was an old Hymnal said to be written about the Inferian from ancient Solheim that had been lost to time, in a text too old to read. However, unless his eyes failed him - and they never did -, before him, although in faded detail, were depicted figures from before the War of the Astrals. Even more so, uncomfortably so, there seemed to be some sort of _buzzing_? Some strange _vibration_? At first her had mistaken it for machinery, but now Verstael realized that it was, in fact, emanating from the stone itself.

He all but forgot his companion, removing a glove and running his fingertips over the rock. It was cool to the touch. The heat of the sun seemed just seemed to get swallowed.

"An altar to Ifrit from before the War of Astrals... how did I miss this?" he mumbled. Only then Verstael remembered himself, snapping a look over to Izunia.

"Some monsters need to be remembered, so that man can learn from their failings. Others, _mon général_ , are deemed so dangerous and unholy that they need to be buried and forgotten. Wiped from history like they never existed." Izunia's hand caressed the cold surface now, his fingers not far from his esteemed guest’s. "How lucky I am to have found someone who is not scared of those."

 

The way the others' velvet affectation swirled in the air and into his ears hypnotized Verstael like the swaying flute a snake, and he stared at the man's golden gaze. Strangely, a chill threatened to run down his spine as he noticed the proximity of their hands, and he withdrew his quickly. He forced himself to just breathe himself through his earlier sense of misplaced irritation and managed to soften slightly, turning to Izunia for the first time in earnest.

"So, you've read my work."

"I did, and I found your take on _a misunderstood Astral_ rather refreshing. You seem to carry more--," he chuckled, "--sympathy for him in your heart than it is to be expected, and you were brave enough to put that opinion out into the arrows of the more _conservative_ thinkers."

"The Infernian holds the key to the might of the Old Empire, and I have made it my life’s work to unlocking its secrets." Peacocking, Besithia puffed up, "I knew if I published that piece, it could be found by someone who appreciated it. I posit that if a latent energy unrelated to the Crystal can be harnessed, we can...." he stopped short. "Ah, I'm getting ahead of myself. Perhaps, Mr. Izunia, you can tell me how you came across such a find yourself?"

"Oh," long fingers danced over the smooth stone, "you'd never believe it. Care for a cup of tea? A drink, perhaps? We may only enter at sundown, and there is plenty of time to show you around until then." At the word 'sundown', the general quirked a brow but remained nonplussed, instead giving a quick nod. He had been given leave for a few days to investigate, but hadn't been expecting, well, anything.

 

\---

 

This was how the young General found himself only a little while later seated in a tented off area, a good distance away from the mystical stones, staring into a cup of impeccably crafted tea. He tried not to eye the way his host's vest fell on broad shoulders, only vaguely jealous of the light clothes under the midday heat.

Izunia was walking around, gathering pictures he had taken, instant snaps of particularly interesting scenes or what he had considered as such.

"Scenes of worship, many of them. The figure of the _little one_ seems central. Here, we have--," he squatted down besides the general and showed him one of a man cut open in the middle, ribcage and heart clearly visible, with two others holding the child-thing into the hollow of his stomach, so very reverent in their stylized positions. "May I ask what _you_ make of it before I continue?"

Blue eyes focused on the photos, nearly mystified, and before long the would-be-researcher came to take the snapshots and related illustrations from the other, blind to how close they were in that moment, only seeing the rent flesh. "You see, there are similar markings to those on the stone, painted -etched? Onto the skin of the sacrifice. He is a vessel for this..." the blond trailed off, face twisting in frustration, looking up finally to their proximity yet again. Blinking away, Verstael huffed, "that figure, I haven't seen elsewhere. When were these taken?"

"Two days ago, in what I dare to consider the way to the antechamber. Fascinating, isn't it? At first I thought of, well, artificial impregnation, if you will, but that may be a too simple way to read it. Not _visceral_ enough..." A small little timbre in his voice revealed a certain excitement.

"The one that only opens at sundown, you say?" Besithia refused to get let his spirits rise too high, but quickly formulated a plan. "How long would you say you have been here, Mr. Izunia? I will send word to my men that I would be available to aid you with your research for some time, if you would allow." Of course, he could just order his men to commandeer the whole site, but then he might lose access to some vital information and this potential discovery. And at worst, if the whole thing should be a farce, he would just have his cordial host killed and be on with his time off.

"I would be delighted if you took the time off your busy schedule. It is more than I would have dreamed of." Golden eyes looked up at him, thankful and somehow _innocent_. "And how very pleased I am that the place welcomes you. Too many I have seen fear it, loathe it instinctively in the same manner a kid fears the darkness. It is why I chose to work with only a small team, to decrease the chances of one of them being silly, or even infecting the others with their silliness. Just imagine what could happen if this became more public! The destruction a superstitious fool could cause!" A dramatic little sigh.

 _Damn, how the poor man looked so sincere._ It was a shame really, the number of pleading researchers that had begged him to give their research merit as he had to abandon them to return to the field. And this one had a way about him that the general couldn't admit to disliking, he thought, gingerly pushing down the useless consideration for weakness. Too involved in the next step, he missed how the other had evaded his first question. "Quite understandable. Research of this nature does require a bit of... discretion." He still held on to the photos and papers while he stood. "However, I assume you know this means I will be taking over as Head Researcher of this archeological site and any and all useful information will be taken to Emperor Ideloas himself."

Coincidentally, what Besithia was leaving out that he had no authority to do so until he had quantified proof of a breakthrough for the Empire, but his host couldn't know that, and after that day, it wouldn't matter.

"Oh, I would never be so vain to call myself a _researcher_ , merely someone with a sense for adventure and history, so you are welcome to take that title." He got up slowly, a predator moving lazily through known hunting grounds. A strange difference to the slightly bumbling way he walked before. "But allow me to doubt the Emperor is interested in _useful information_ without plans that allow him to make _use_ of it. Even though a mind like yours will surely find something." A smile filled with adoration.

 

Only an apt profiler would be able to pick up on the mechanizations of Verstael Besithia's mind. It was coursing at full force, and before he knew it, he was giving his pilot directions, forcefully planting a hand on the man's shoulder as he blew his brains away, silencer and a small handgun all that was needed. The report back would read as a horrible landing accident that he alone had survived. As the last man's breath left his lips, he turned back to this hanger-on, smiling gleefully.

The peculiar Mister Izunia didn't seem shocked in the slightest, a little smirk on his lips. He had been waiting at the opened hatch, close enough to witness the soft _thud_ of the silenced pistol. "Is it the right time for a drink _now_ , _mon général_? On a fruitful liaison?"

"Ah, yes. I do believe it is time." It was a few good hours before sunset, but the instructions sent back to Gralea were set.

"Do you need shelter for the night or do you prefer your comfortable haven of metal?" He held out his arm like a gentleman would for a lady. Old habits seemed to die hard.

It was only then a noticeable blush visibly graced his cheeks.

"I would like to see any earlier photos you would like to show me before nightfall."

"It will be my pleasure."

 

And it seemed to be, after he fixed both of them rather _stiff_ drinks, Altissian gin with only a hint of vermouth and some orange peel in water glasses. More pictures and more smiles, spiral patterns and maps of strange stars, yes, that was what they had to be, Izunia explained it quite convincingly, and yes, here was the first man who entered through the door, bashed his head in on the wall inside in a sudden onset of madness, horrible accidents happened, didn't they, no reason to worry.

After a while there was Izunia's hand on his shoulder, cool and heavy and pleasant, and it seemed just his way of _talking_ to people, unafraid of physical closeness, even with one like him.

The sun had begun to set as a slight sheen of sweat came to grace the general's features for the first time, downing at least the third of his host’s mixed drinks of the evening. The tented off area seemed alive, and the young general tried to ignore the heat in his veins as sundown began.

"Oh, and you _need_ to see this!" He found himself being dragged out into the blue glow of dusk. Izunia's hand in his. A rich, decadent fragrance filled the air, and as his eyes grew accustomed to the twilight, he saw a myriad of tiny milkwhite blossoms sprouting from the lush green that covered the walls of the chasm. More and more of them were opening as the sun hid her face, glowing in a soft, shimmering light, fireflies cast into a blossom.

The younger man tried to keep himself from next to giggling as he was dragged on, but found himself silent as sundown ascended. The blue glow illuminated his face as the door opened, and it was only then everything was _real_. Dumb look on his face,  his guide’s hand gripped tightly, trying not to comprehend too hard the shift in the air around him.

"It seems they only grow here," the golden voice whispered. "In small amounts, their pollen incites dreams. In amounts too large..."

"Ardyn..." Verstael began, using his host's name for the first time. "You do realize what this means." He squeezed the hand in his own, voice above a whisper as the stone before them came alive, the earth unfolding before them.

"Pray, _mon général_ , tell your humble servant."

 

"We might change the world."

 

"That we will." A solemn promise in those words.

 

It was then Besithia hit a mental wall again he knew just too well. He felt his airways constrict, noticed his breath dipping shallow and choking him up. His hand dropped down, and he gingerly tried to get to his knees as long as he still was able to do so. His nails dug into his palms. Sometimes the pain brought him back, but this time...

He had never gotten this far, and despite the fact that he was present before all of the potential before him, he didn't feel like he deserved it.  
"There, there." Cool hands on his temples. "Look at me, _mon général_. It will all turn out splendidly. Can you repeat that for me? It will all turn out splendidly." Breathing heavily, a grip came to clutch at the man's shirt. "We shall bring glory to the empire..." the small blond came to whisper into the other's chest, curling up despite himself. The pilot's widow came to mind. Hadn’t he had only just begun to let go of this conspirator’s infractions?

 "We shall bring glory to _you_ , the glory you deserve so very much." Thumbs tracing his eyebrows, wiping away a tiniest bit of the stress. A heavy blush stained the young general’s cheeks in that moment. He was completely exposed, and this to a stranger so eager to give him everything he wanted. Mouthing a weak ‘yes’, he came to grasp the hand at his face, proceeding to nod continuously.

"Mr. Izunia, if you would be so kind to take point on this... while I..." the young general trailed off, clearing his throat and trying to gather himself.

“I will find you in ten minutes in your ship, if you would be so kind to collect what you need for our journey.“

The hands had slowly drawn back, leaving a pleasant coolness on the blond's skin.

He continued to nod, more to himself than otherwise, blush sustaining. As the taller man retreated, Verstael blinked hazily, finally coming to his senses.

 

Besithia found himself back on the drop ship, the distant stirring of daemons in the night around him. In his hand was a redesigned gas mask, built to fit with an elaborate set of magnifying goggles. For the first time in recent memory, a genuine smile graced his features. Gripping the bag at his shoulder with his supplies for a few days, he caught his reflection in a reflective surface of the windshield, splattered with dried blood. With little trouble, he puffed up, admiring himself and pushing down his earlier sense of panic. Upon hearing someone approach from outside, his eyes went to the opened door.

"It would be very appreciated if you waited until I showed you around before you put a bullet to my head. May I?"

Izunia's voice was so very _cheery_ , and he didn't wait until the young general gave his okay. "Shall my people take care of that before even more itsy-bitsy flies join in the feast?" He vaguely pointed into the direction of the ex-pilot.

Besithia blinked flatly over to the corpse in its earliest stages of rot. With a nonchalant shrug, he returned his gaze to his reflection. "If you would," he said, grasping his earlier stoicism again. He began preening, trying to fix a wave in his hair that wouldn't keep from sticking out.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's only one way to tell how far down this hole goes.

The entrance in itself was rather disappointing. A narrow hole in the wall without any visible means to reach it. They had to take the route over several squeaky scaffolds and ladders to get there.

This was how Verstael Besithdia found himself in the compromising position of his host hoisting him up into a narrow space. “Not too impressive, I am well aware, and we'll need you on hands and knees to enter,“ Izunia had said nonchalantly, and Verstael inwardly sighed at the indignity, fully aware of his lack of height, manpower and how ridiculous he looked, and very slowly ignored the growing sense of being out of his depth.

He landed, just so he could crawl on all fours upon landing, for a few yards more animal than man. He felt the carvings in the rock here too, painful under his knees, deeper and with sharper edges. The tunnel twisted and turned, leading slightly upwards, making their journey through the darkness even more unpleasant; time and weather had not taken their toll here. Izunia's sudden low singing behind him did nothing to improve his mood, even if he recognized most of the Solheimian words. Something about the loss of a loved one? The melody was strange, nothing he was used to hearing.

Besithia stayed silent, finding the hole longer than expected, and as he came up on its end, how much louder the weird hum was.

The tunnel ended into a cave, one that seemed _mostly_ natural. It was low, barely high enough for his companion to stand, but of a beauty he had never before witnessed. He had seen the molten deserts where the ancient wars had raged, but where that felt like a wasteland, this was the inside of a flock of soap bubbles, round and iridiscandent and weirdly organic, filled with an inner light that was just bright enough to see.

Verstael felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise. There almost seemed to be a _thickness_ to the air. His first assumption was the humidity sometimes found in cavernous spaces, but was definitely more complicated in nature. The pair seemed to settle into the space around them, dim light catching their features. Besithia blinked a side eye, unable to discern the look on his now guide's face, but found himself trying not to marvel at the room.

"Of what nature are these?" he muttered, quietly, sound still resounding oddly in the room.

"Those?" Izunia knocked his fingers against one of the bubbles, causing a bright, glassy tone. "Some kind of crystal, I think. I found it wise not to ruin the integrity of the place more than necessary."

A grimace passed over the blond's face. "What leads you to believe that? A sample, at least, is required," he responded, proceeding to ignore his gracious host and tap rather testily against the pristine surface.

More tiny, crystalline sounds, a child just discovering that mother's best glassware can make _such beautiful music_ before Izunia's hand closed around the general's wrist. Pulled it away without care for the resistance it offered. "Experience, _mon général_. Don't wake things you are ill prepared to fight." The shorter man hissed, and for the briefest of moments, the grip on his wrist was almost too much to bear, but the moment quickly passed.

With a huff, he shot a defiant glare up the other in response. A new emotion marked his guide's face for the first time, a genuine distaste, not unlike anger, and the general's glare faded, the grip lessening enough for him to snap his arm back.

Izunia slightly bowed, head slighted cocked, a coquettish position for an upcoming excuse. "I fully understand your eagerness, but give this place time to get to know you before you take a part of it." A sigh, and the general straightened. "Ah yes, you are a most effective guide," words emphasized slightly too much to be fully sincere, and Besithia returned to study the structures once more, hands placed respectfully behind his back.

"Your earlier photos were taken where exactly?"

"We will get to that soon. This place... it doesn't photograph well. To be honest, I was wondering if this isn't the entrance, but rather the _exit_. A very, very _rear_ exit." His fingers tickled over one of the bubbles, causing the glow inside to brighten. This brought the general back over, moving curiously about his guide, if not still slightly terse. "How far is it to your recorded locations?" It was hard not to be impressed, but the younger man had made enough of a fool of himself already and was not going to let the situation escape him again.

"We haven't reached the end yet, and I cannot honestly tell you how far we managed. A little beyond what I consider the antechamber, but I may be in the wrong there. Your hand, _mon général_?" He stretched out his own, offering his grasp. Glad for the mask, Verstael bit his lip initially at the offer, hoping a furrow of his brow would read instead. After waiting one beat longer than needed, a gloved hand came to grip the one offered.

"For you see--," Izunia slowly opened up the gloved hand, guided his index finger over each and every one of them, "--sometimes it pays to be slow and gentle if you want things to open up for you." He lead the hand towards the shimmering surface. "Try to make them _sing_. I know you can do it." The words stung, and the general's first instinct was to swat, but a chill threatened to run down his spine as the man continued, and he unexpectedly found himself frozen, fingertips poised right above the surface.

Very carefully, he brushed the surface of the crystal with the tip of his ring finger.

Instantaneously sound reverberated, a clear and beautiful single note ringing true. He waited, before repeating the process, note ringing out alongside the first in a harmony. He pointedly studied his work. Izunia did not stop him. Tiny wrinkles around his eyes as he beamed at the younger man. "I just _knew_ you were the right one!"

Confused blue eyes shot up to meet gold, hand still poised above the crystal. "The right one?" The general questioned dubiously, but to no straight answer.

"Close your eyes, and make them _sing_. You will understand."

After several silent moments after the notes drifted away, Verstael Besithia brought both hands up to the surface of the strange crystalline bubbles, and very gently caressed the ethereal surface, fingers curling in. The resulting sound filled the room with a swelling harmony and brighter light, as glorious as the blond had ever heard, and the corners of his eyes watered in spite of himself, following through to bring another careful touch across the shining surface, amplifying the sound. He remained transfixed.

“Very good, _mon général_...“ A smooth whisper close to his ear, and the touch of a body against his. Just Izunia helping him, _guiding_ him as he was supposed to, showing him the way to the right spots. He heard him hum along to the little tune he was producing.

The air seemed to shift around them, growing lighter along with the rest of the room. Still, there didn't seem to be enough for Verstael as he inhaled deeply, letting himself fall back and be lead by his host as they operated the collective into what was a beautiful melody. The gentle humming at his back sent a noticeable chill down his spine, and as Verstael couldn't recall the last time anyone was allowed so near him so casually, his eyelids fluttered shut, haphazardly releasing the slight moisture that had gathered there. He would not notice how different the room would appear under such brilliant light.

What he managed to create was beautiful indeed, at least for the right eyes. Shimmering lights reflected in other crystal domes, and then in others and others, setting the whole room into a vibrant glow that encased them like amber a rather unsuspecting fly. Verstael felt his own heartbeat become slower, tune in with some other, slower rhythm.

It was far more obvious what the earlier hum of the stone was intended to be at this point, and very quickly, from the base of the cluster sprang out craggy roots like the ones felled outdoors, only to wither away in some unseen heat, crystals shimmering in the stone unphased. The song cascaded around the two, seeming to bring them only closer as the structure fluctuated and changed. The ground shook, as an even deeper ancient wail to accompany the heavenly sound erupted from the ground in the response to the call before them, seemingly in time to that same rhythm.

Izunia only hummed louder still, pleasantly disposed and holding the others' hands firm as they continued, and the blond became unsettled as the shaking around them grew. Cool flames followed the withered roots, licking the stone around the crystal and growing lower toward them. "Izunia," the blond tried to warn, but the grip on his hands and the toothy grin at his ear told him the warning was pointless.

“It feels so good, does it not?“ His stubble tickled against the man's ear. “So very _right_ , deep down in the marrow of your bones. Like making love with some you lusted for since the first moment you met...“

For all the effort the general had put into studying many subjects and being proficient at many activities... This was a first. The way Izunia's body encompassed his own made his breath fall short. The odd flames continued to encase the room with an almost showy nature, just straying close enough to cause the blond to back up further into the arms of his guide, who met him with full force of contact in return. "Ardyn," Verstael only breathed.

 _“Mon général_ of course is very aware what he is preparing himself for here...“ The guiding hands grew slower, without breaking the melody. “He of course knows about the ancient rites and the promises they include...“ His voice was a whisper in a lover's ear, his body cool and hard, more statue than weak, fragile human.

The anxiety and dread that threatened to fill the blond's head was undermined by a new feeling, a shell chipped away from the inside. A drive, finally given permission, one held off and sidelined for so long, and a hunger. A strange arcane thirst that Besithia had never been allowed to follow and only had glimpsed, flooded his senses. He was completely unaware of the soft moan that had build in his chest as had the heat under in his lab coat, just overpowered by the sound surrounding him. Only nodding against the form behind him, he let his head fall slack as he eyed their fingertips. The smirk on his guide’s face remained hidden.

Even slower the long, clear notes became out, drawn out like a longing sigh themselves. Then, gently, so very gently, they _faded_ , leaving their echo in Verstael's mind, still filling him so abundantly that he felt like overspilling, and still, he was being held, a dirty hand placed over his heart, drawing him against the chest behind him. Holding him through a fading world he almost had _touched_ , keeping him safe in the returning darkness.

“This is not a good place to _lie_ , beautiful boy.“ A tender admonishment by the golden voice, and breath that all of a sudden felt like air he had _almost_ breathed tickling his ear. He felt so terribly young in that moment, held in the arms of an ancient, head full of glorious song. It took him too long to realize the flames had retreated, or had there been any flames at all? Finally pulling himself away and straightening up, Verstael looked to his host, as if finally seeing him for the first time.

Without even a blush or a doubletake, the general confidently caught Izunia's gaze in his own. "What comes next?" A grin tugged at his guide's mouth. “It depends on how far you are willing to go without knowing the outcome. That is the main criterium here. Once, they might have asked how _brave_ you are.“

There was an unmistakable glint in the golden eyes set on him, and Verstael set to meet it. "You said I was the 'right one'. Whatever the outcome, I am willing to do what it takes," and he took a breath, about to add ‘for the glory of the Empire’ but held off. This was no longer simply about empires and kingdoms and their silly wars, that was clear now.

“Mh. All the markings of a hero. A rare breed indeed.“ Ardyn's finger traced the man's high cheekbone. “Of course. But then, when am I ever mistaken? Come along, if you're ready.“

It had not taken them long to follow a somehow _familiar_ amber glow down into an underground causeway, cavernous and much taller than the area that preceded it. The muddied rust beneath them was surmised to have once been a walkway, holding barely above murky stale water that was out of place in the architecture, lending to the assumption of some kind of breakage far beneath them. The water faintly rippled, and the reflection of the far up distant amber light played across the the forms of the general and his guide. It was impossible to tell how deep the cave went beneath them. The air was much cooler then, and a haze filled the air along with a sour smell, the humming once again minimal. They walked for some time, in silence now, Izunia keeping a brisker pace than Besithia had seen him hold all day.

Out of the dim haze appeared a large structure before them. Three large marble columns in an inverted triangle, possibly the height of two or three dropships, similar to the ones outdoors but kept preserved by shelter, built into the sizable cavern. The light seemed to wrap around the three, coming to a head just before the both of them. In the path ahead lay a slight recessed space in the ground, enforced by marble, blackened by fire.

"A funeral pyre," Verstael muttered, wanting to address it before his guide could.

They had been walking through catacombs.

"Or a prison for something that would not die, how much they ever tried, or--," long strides towards one of the columns, arms slightly apart, a dancer entering the stage, "the final point of a journey of initiation, taking farewell from the weakness of the mortal flesh and becoming born anew... But what do I know, _mon général_?" He leaned against the marble. "You see, if this place is a body, I wonder if we did not start in the beginning, the _mouth_ , but..." A dirty little chuckle. A blush wanted to creep up the blond's neck. "The anus, yes," he shot back, unwilling to play into the joke.

He came up to the blackened markings on the ground and knelt. Packing his mask and goggles away, he reverted to a pair of humble glasses. Izunia seemed content to idle at the column, pleased with himself. The general cleared his throat. "A sample?" he asked curtly, gesturing to the burn marks. "Perfect way to start a first meeting. A sample, for sure. Ashes are not part of the whole, but only dirt on the surface. It will not mind if you take some of it to see what things have been." Against the column, he looked to much like a martyr, bound and tortured for the artist's pleasure, and he seemed to enjoy himself in that role. "But then, it might just be an old man spinning superstitious yarn. Of course, that is rather plausible."

The younger man quickly set to work at the other's reply, but quirked a curious brow at his guide's words. Collecting a suitable amount of grime from the pit into a small vile, blue eyes casually surveyed the way the light hit Izunia's face. It wouldn't be the first time the man had struck him as handsome. "You seem at home," he tossed at the other, before returning his full attention to his work. "I try my best to seem that in the worst of circumstances. If one just believes it hard enough, it might become true." Again, a little laugh, before he came over and squatted down at his side to watch him work.

Besithia filled two more smaller vials, before opening a small satchel containing two dozen more, full of a clear liquid. Withdrawing one, he carefully tapped a small amount of ash into it. Immediately changing color, he quickly moved to unpack an accompanying notebook, jotting down several notes. Very distantly, a dull note, similar to before, could be heard through the haze in his head. Cautiously, the general peered above and over to his guide.

Izunia still seemed quite at ease, drawing little circles into the grime with his nail. "May I give you a little advise, my dearest general? Just for the improbable case you get _scared_... don't try to run. It may _amuse_ somebody, but it won't help, not even to make you meet your end faster. You know about cats and their handling of mice."

The man playing researcher stiffened slightly at the other's words, but quickly resumed his work in silence. A blond brow furrowed as Besithia opened another liquid vial and repeated the process, tapping the residue gently in. No sudden reaction occurred, but nonetheless, he closed it up and shook it before slipping it into a pocket. Exchanged it for a watch, and set it for an unascertainable about of time. Returned it to his pack. After shooting a sharp look to his guide, they both got up. "I'm surprised you aren't as keen on the difference between my fears and precautions, Mr. Izunia." It was a tease, although a fool could see the blond's lingering apprehension.

“Ah, you will excuse an old man for thinking one with so much to live for fears what hides in the dark. I surely did when I was your age.“ A short, polite smile.

It was met with a grimace and a return of the earlier glower that had graced Verstael's features. With a slight huff and an eyeroll, he brushed past his guide to examine the nearest pillar more readily. "So, is there any strange magic I'm required to do at this point, or can we move on? I assume your antechamber isn't the next room over, am I correct?"

As he looked, glyphs seemed to drift to the surface like letters in a bowl of alphabet soup. Disappeared again, shying away from his prying eyes. Izunia still watched him, still mildly amused.

"Oh, it is, after a little journey through the walls. We still have not opened the _heart_ of the whole affair, you see? That is what lies between us and the chamber, but still, we found a way around. It's neither easy not pleasant, but possible if you're willing to get a bit dirty."

The general curtly spun on his heel to shoot a look back at his companion as he responded, but the heat from his demeanor drained upon hearing the last word. "Oh?" He tried, becoming a hysterical introspection on the concept of mortal fear.

His guide pointed into the general direction of their surroundings. "The water is worse elsewhere, and so is the state of the building fabric. It's not necessarily a _swim_ that is needed, but you will not stay dry either."

 

 

As the two waded through increasingly high water, the guide's words quickly turned out to be a hopeful lie. A small ringing alarm went off inside the general's bag. He held it over his head as stale water swirled around his waist. The ash sample was ready. "Are you sure you were here two nights ago?"

"Well..." Ardyn's formerly white shirt clung to him. There had been no floor where he expected some a few steps earlier, and while he had managed not to fully dive into the brownish mess, the biggest part of him was soaked. "I am rather sure I slept two times since I came out, even though I may be not _exactly sure_ when I went in. Time in here sometimes... acts a little odd."

The causeway was next to gone at this point, looking as if a higher tide had come in. Verstael's military standard boots were no match for the growing sludge at his feet, which seemed to want to curl around him and swallow him whole. His concentration in staying stable caused him to miss what Ardyn had said. The blond's shorter stature truly working against him in comparison, his next step nearly took him under, muddy water splashing up to his neck and face. It was fortunate he was not wearing his armor. "Please, Mr. Izunia..." a near slip, "If you could hold my ba-" and the general went down, watch still ringing as it splashed into the water.

Something closed around his wrist, hard, hard enough to be painful, and it was the hand that was cramped around his bag. _Safe, The important things were safe_ and a harsh crunch in his shoulder as his body fell forward and the arm just _stayed_. For a moment the hurt made him forget that he was under the surface, bestowing on him a mouthful of water that tasted like he imagined graves to taste like.

It took an agonizingly long second for him to resurface, but when he did, it took an even longer amount of time to spit out all the water that he had taken in. The relative quiet and muted splashing in the cavern was broken with a gasped cry. Glasses caked in a film, the soggy blond came to grasp at his guide's death grip with his free hand, finding purchase standing on the others boots. When the grip suddenly released, his arm fell slack and he nearly dropped the bag all over again. With a shuddering hiss, he switched holding it to his good arm, wrapping it around Ardyn's neck and breathlessly leaning onto him. The guide's face remained unreadable as the muddy general's hair clung to a stubbly jawline, leaving messy trails of decayed film between them. Besithia panted for air.

"There, there." He found himself drawn close. "Don't you die on me now, _mon général_. We aren't finished yet." For a few precious moments, Izunia's lips touched the young man's brow, and it felt like time itself held its breath. Gone was the pain, the water's clammy embrace. Verstael found himself frozen in one long, sweet heartbeat that ended way too fast.

"Are you hurt?"

Blinking dazedly, the younger man took a little too long to answer, unable to fully comprehend what had just transpired. His host gave him a quick once over and, after a beat, a vague smirk could be seen passing over his features as he eased up on his grip on the sopping general.

Finally, his expression cleared as came to his senses and buried a hand into his bag to turn off the watch. The amber light above seemed to ripple above them then, catching both pairs of eyes as it caught a slight turn off onto the submerged metal, ending in an old brick embankment. They barely had to nod at one another before making their way carefully over to it for several too long moments.

 

 

Finally on solid, more forgiving, ground it was noticeable how thoroughly the decay had clung to them. Verstael's lab coat was caked in filth, which was to say nothing of Ardyn's formerly white shirt.

His guide gingerly touched his shoulder. Tried to move it slowly, then, eliciting a little yelp from the general. He wasn't used to pain. It was the others that got hurt in his name, as it should be, and not _this_ , and not Izunia drawing breath through his teeth and mumbling something about _probably dislocated_. "You still can move your fingers alright? Any loss of sensitivity?"

Verstael had blinked incredulously at his guide. "I'm fine," he snapped. Everything felt normal as it was moved, aside from being a little sore. Then, very suddenly, it wasn't. A sharp hiss escaped his mouth and he dropped his backpack onto the ground. His neck had seized, and tears welled his eyes. Flicking a few digits through the pain, he came to grip at Ardyn's dirty shirt. In turn, his guide turned soft, hushing the general's hiss and bringing him back into a gentle embrace. Verstael was about to relax into it when with a quickness, his shoulder was shoved back into its socket with a thud while his torso was pulled into that of his companion. A long scream ripped out of his mouth, reverberating throughout the cavern.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! There are more chapters being edited now, so if you enjoyed it please subscribe and there will be more soon!


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